X.

The sound of rain
after a long winter,
a balm in the wake
of protracted pain.
In the darkness,
muted poetry;
in the warming of the earth,
joyful consolation.

IX.

In the heart of suburbia

There dwells an aching void which fails

To be molified by feeble

Attempts to placate. Here the dry

Bed of ancient stream languishes

Overgrown with vegetation.

Wild souls pacified by toys and 

Glitter, such vapid amusements

While bones ache for substance. We are

Citizens without nation; the

Self-imposed exiles of richer

Provinces, condemned to shallow

Lives lived without root. O Lord let

Us explore the loam, dig deeper

To be a people of a place.

Bind us together with sinews

Of memory and time, bonds of

Community and love. May our

Bones resonate with River, street,

Song. May we be a people whose

Blood runs with history rather

Than a history running with

Blood. Satisfy us with richer

Fare than circumspect but hollow

Isolation masking itself

As independence. Write our names

Upon the roads. Stamp legacies

In the bricks. Cause our gardens

To flourish with yeilds hundredfold.

VIII.

I did not know what to say

So I walked down to the lake.

I did not know what to think

So my feet found familiar paths.

The stones they smiled and met me there

And invited me in.

I know,

That as these hours pass

These pleasures cannot last

That dusk will soon be here

To claim this day's spoils.

So I'm left

With tragic insufficiency

Longing for Eden.

With the dream-lights pale,

Flickering above the face of the waters

And the waves beneath rippling

I spied the place a pine had been

Many years before.

Pruned, it had been once

Now ground into oblivion,

dust to paint the soles

And a garden to native things.

From the placid surface rose the moon

Rusty face ebbing.

Her pilfered light displayed for mortal man,

For the erring and the needy.

Spying her dusky domain

Shedding her bulk and color

She ascended into prominence.

I shuffled my feet 

The dry leaves rang impossibly loud

Til my presence seemed incongruous.

Then I surrendered

Becoming less

While aching for more

Until into the shadows I receded.

Go

This is article was originally written for my church, Ypsilanti Free Methodist Church

In the winter of 1777, the newly minted Continental army was looking to international sources to gain any advantage in their struggle for independence. Diplomat John Adams had been sent to Paris to try and encourage the French to join the war on the side of the new nation. The French diplomats, however, had taken such a dislike of Adams that negotiations had all but died. Out of desperation, leaders sent Benjamin Franklin, the ambassador to France to Paris. There, Franklin rescued the negotiations and secured French military assistance beginning in February of 1778, giving the new country the boost it needed to continue and (eventually) win its independence.

Franklin’s efforts represent exactly what an ambassador is expected to do: represent the interests of their home nation with foreign countries.

In his second letter to the Corinthians, Paul refers his companions and himself as: “ambassadors for Christ, as though God were making His appeal through us.”

We, as Christians, are more than mere citizens of the Kingdom of God, we are ambassadors. When we give our lives and allegiance to Jesus we do more than simply affirm some doctrinal statement. Too often we fall into the easy and comfortable life of living within our own ‘tribe’. We forget that we were not called to live entertaining, safe lives but to go out into the world as witnesses for Christ. We evangelicals can become remarkably un-evangelical on a practical level.

We are not only called out of our former sinful way of life but we are sent back out into our communities. The disciples, when reunited with the resurrected Jesus, were told, “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth.”

Our involvement with God does not stop when we walk out the doors of the sanctuary. Attending a Sunday service should be more like the starting line of the Kentucky Derby. We show up to know where we’re going and what we’re doing and then--- you’re off, into the world Jesus sent us into. To think otherwise is to misrepresent the gospel we have been called to.

We are ambassadors for Christ, called to go into our families, our communities, and our world to bear witness to what we have experienced and know to be true. Our mission should, of course, inspire purity and fellowship so that we may best represent our true country but we must always remember our role: to go out as messengers to our neighbors.